Bloody Heart (Brutal Birthright #4) - Sophie Lark Page 0,32
twitch of one red eyebrow. He just made his hand. I’m pretty sure he’s got a full house.
Nero’s so fucking cocky, he’s not even paying attention. He wasn’t looking at Siberia, so he didn’t see the twitch. He’s looking down at his own chips, preparing to bet again. I wish I could shout out for him to stop.
The pot is $3000 now. Nero bets another $2k.
Siberia raises Nero on the turn, just like he did the hand before. This time he won’t be bluffed off for anything. He raises to $5k.
Nero calls, smooth as butter.
Even the dealer looks nervous at the obvious tension in the room. He flips over the river card: Two of Spades. No good to anybody.
Siberia smiles. He’s sure that Nero chased the straight, just like last hand. And he didn’t get it.
Pretending like he did, Nero says, “I’m all-in.”
Siberia grins, showing all of his yellow teeth. He snap calls Nero before the words “all-in” have even left his lips.
Siberia flips over pocket Kings—he’s got the nut boat, Kings over Queens.
Nero lets out a small sigh. Then he turns over pocket Queens. He had Quads from the very beginning.
Siberia stares blankly at the table, like he can’t even comprehend what he’s seeing. The friend on his right mutters, “Etot grebanyy chiter!”
Reality hits. Siberia lets out an inhuman roar. He leaps up, and his two compatriots jump up, too. If they hadn’t been frisked for weapons on their way down, I don’t think the whole Red Army could have prevented them from riddling my brother with bullets. As it is, they look like they want to tear him apart with their bare hands.
Nero sits tense and still, not foolish enough to scoop up his winnings.
“Sit down,” I bark, my voice cutting across the room.
Siberia looks over at me, his shoulders shaking with rage.
“Your brother is a cheater,” he hisses.
“He outplayed you,” I say bluntly. “I watched the whole thing.”
I’ve taken a couple steps closer, so I’m right behind Nero. The other players are rooted to their seats, not wanting to make a sound in case the Russian turns his rage on them. Even Maggie the Mouth keeps her yap shut for once.
“He’s too young to play,” one of the other Bratva spits.
“You didn’t care about that when you took his buy-in,” I say.
“What’s done is done,” the dealer says, raising his hands. “Let’s just pay out and shut down the game for the night.”
It’s the wrong thing to say—he’d be better off offering Siberia another buy-in. Still, with my bulk blocking the doorway, the Russians have to let it go.
Not without one last dig, however.
“Shit play wins today,” Siberia sneers.
Nero narrows his eyes. He doesn’t care if they call him a cheater—but unskilled? That’s too much.
In a thick KGB accent, Nero scoffs, “You want a cookie, fat baby?”
The Bratva rush at him.
I flip the whole table over, flinging it aside like it’s cardboard. Chips scatter in every direction, rolling across the floor. I jump between Nero and the Russians, grabbing the first one and throwing him over onto the upended table.
Behind me, I hear the snick of Nero’s switchblade opening up. Whoever frisked him didn’t do a very good job. Or more accurately, they’d have to use a full-body MRI to find something that Nero wants to keep hidden.
Siberia and the other Russian hesitate.
Footsteps thunder down the stairs and Zalewski bawls out, “Knock it off, all of you!”
He heard the ruckus of the table flipping over, and the Russian flying across the room. Now he’s down in the basement, red-faced and furious.
“No fucking fighting at my game!” he howls. “Get out, all of you!”
“Not without my chips,” Nero says stubbornly.
I’d like to strangle my brother myself at this point.
Instead, I jerk my head at the dealer, to tell him to pick up the chips.
When he’s scooped up what looks like $20k, I say, “Cash him out.”
The dealer looks at Zalewski. He nods curtly.
The dealer opens the lockbox and counts out the bills. He hands them to me, and I stuff them in my pocket.
All the while, the Russians are watching with their pale, furious eyes.
“We’ll meet again across the table,” Siberia says to Nero.
“No you fucking won’t,” I tell him.
And with that, I haul Nero back up the stairs.
13
Simone
Even though I’m dreading telling my parents about Dante, I sit them down that same night, as soon as we’re done eating. I would have liked Serwa to be there too, but she was tired and went to bed early.